


Bubble Bath

by nirvhannahcornell



Category: Metallica
Genre: Bubble Bath, F/M, Sensual Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 15:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19298890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirvhannahcornell/pseuds/nirvhannahcornell
Summary: Picture this, dear reader: you are with our man of many curls, and after a bit of hearsay on the hotness that is lovemaking in water, you try your hand at it.Inspired by - this is true, I’m not making this up - a fic endeavor my mom did way back when the Internet was message boards and mailing lists 💕





	Bubble Bath

“Go ahead and get in first, I’ll be right there,” Kirk calls out to you from the other room.  
And with that, you strip off your panties and climb into the bathtub right as the water reaches the three inch mark. You are covering your bare breasts with your hand and your forearm, even though you’re the only person in the room. This is the first time you are climbing into a tub with another person, much less Kirk. But he talked you into it, especially when he told you he would be bringing the sandalwood candles and the jug of soft smelling bubble bath. Add to this, he had just come home from a short but difficult tour in Europe and all he would like to do at the moment is relax here with you, his girlfriend at the moment.  
You take a seat in the warm water, and it kisses the backs of your thighs. You lean back against the wall of the tub while still keeping your hands and arms pressed to your chest. Butterflies dance inside your stomach even though you have nothing to feel nervous about. Perhaps it could be all of those times you had eavesdropped on James’ girlfriend talking about having utterly torrid sex in the shower or Lars muttering to himself about his desire for the same thing—“I’ll have what he’s having”, you heard him say once, and you realized he wasn’t joking—or perhaps it’s the fact you are in a tub and not a shower.  
The water continues to rise and Kirk enters the room, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and carrying the pair of candles in one hand and the glass jug of milky white bubble bath in question in the other hand. Part of his long, luscious black curly hair cascades over his shoulder and you keep your eyes fixated on his broad, toned chest. You are blown, smitten in fact, by the sight of his body.  
He sets down the candles on the shelf above your head and he notices you covering your chest.  
“Are you alright?” he asks you over the water trickling out of the faucet.  
“Yeah, I’m just—nervous,” you confess to him.  
“Don’t be,” he tells you, setting the bottle of bubble bath on the edge of the tub. “Don’t be nervous around me, doll.”  
You sigh through your nose and, without another word, your arms slide down your chest, thus exposing your breasts to him.  
“There we go,” he declares, slightly proud. He picks up the bottle of bubble bath and unscrews the cap. You watch him tip the bottle forward and the milky liquid spills out into the rising water. It collects near where the water is pouring in and, once he pours in enough for the both of you, he swirls his hand about to make the suds come into fruition. He hands you the bottle for you to pour some around yourself. The bottle is much heavier than you had initially thought.  
You pour a large dollop on either side of your body and you set down the bottle on the edge of the tub. The suds begin to rise up from the water with the swirling motions of your hands. You sink down into the water to where the surface kisses the tips of your nipples, and the suds begin to collect all around you. The smell from the bubbles begins to cradle you and relax every inch of your body.  
Kirk reaches for a matchbook on the overhead shelf and lights a match. He lights the wicks of the candles. He waves the match about to douse the flame. Then he reaches for the dials of the faucet to switch off the water: all the while, he moves his hands in a way that it looks as though he’s fondling them. You scoot over for him to climb in next to you: you watch him unravel the towel from around his waist. You stare on at his package and the slender sculpted shape of his hips as he hangs there next to the side of the tub and lets the towel fall onto the floor.  
He lifts his right foot into the water first, followed by his left: you glance up to see him keeping one hand on the porcelain tiles of the wall behind you to steady himself. You watch him slip down into the bubbly warm waters next to you; you think of tensing up as he comes closer to you, but every part of the waters around you is perfect. The aroma from the candles combines with the smell of the bubble bath so as to immerse you in a feast for the senses.  
He leans into your face for a little kiss on the cheek, followed by a kiss on the neck.  
“If only we had some wine,” he suggests.  
“Like red wine?” you ask him as a rather large bubble on top of a nearby pile of suds clings there to show you the reflection of your face and the side of his head.  
“Nice sexy red wine, absolutely.”  
You feel his hand slide behind your lower back to your hip. You relax at the touch of his hand, augmented by the warm water and the silkiness of the bubble bath around you. You turn your head to watch him submerge his head underneath the water and the piles of suds and stray bubbles right in front of your face and your bare breasts.  
You feel his face lingering close to your stomach and before you can say anything, he lifts his head out of the water like some kind of sea monster. His curls matte to his forehead and shoulders; he lifts himself closer to your lips for another, much more prolonged kiss. You feel his hands caress your hips, and then your waist, followed by your thighs. He then returns to his spot there in the tub next to you, never taking his hands off of your thighs.  
“So how about the party tomorrow?” he asks you.  
“What about it?”  
“Should I wear a tie?”  
“If you want,” you reply, and for a moment, you feel as though he can go without, just wear that towel on the floor. The smell of the bubble bath is all too relaxing for you; you feel your eyelids growing heavy. His fingers slither down the inside of your thigh and you feel him touching you. But you don’t mind: if anything, you return the favor with a pile of soapy suds to obscure the view of your hand there between his legs, but not the feeling for him.


End file.
